


Turn Alight

by strawberryrose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Training, Beltane, Changing Tenses, In Medias Res, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Pyrophobia, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10790196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryrose/pseuds/strawberryrose
Summary: "So, how do we fix this?"Hermione pursed her lips as she thought. Ron leaned into the table to look around her at Harry, a cheeky smirk on his face. "Do Beltane properly next time?"





	Turn Alight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Megyal, for HDS Beltane 2013. Crossposted Beltane 2017.

One year.

Well, in - Harry checks his watch - about nine hours, it will be one year since he killed Voldemort. It is strange to think of; it seems like so much less and yet so much more than a single year.

There is the sound of drums in the distance. A din raises above the heavy rhythm, blending in such a way that it's hard to tell voice from horn. Celebrating the end of the war will come tomorrow, on the Hogwarts grounds. He'll be expected to give a speech, as he agreed to do while helping to plan the event. The stage is probably already set up.

Not all that far from there, Harry steps away from the Apparation point in Hogsmeade. Ron and Hermione, flanking him, exchange smiles that Harry can see without actually looking as they begin the long trek through the town and to the fairgrounds.

Tonight there are no speeches to be made. Tonight, Harry is on a mission that he couldn't have conceived of a year ago. Tonight is Beltane.

  
\---  


So far as the world at large is concerned, it had begun several hours after the battle. Harry knows, of course, that it had actually begun long before that, but that is neither here nor there. That was when the wizarding world had taken notice, and that was the incident people referred to when talking about the beginning.

Interestingly enough, it would still be about three months before Harry himself noticed, and another before he would admit it.

"Hold up!"

Even drunk with exhaustion, Harry noticed when Aurors started to lead the Malfoys away. Looking back on it later, he'd have no idea how he had, though. The world was a blur around him; his thoughts and emotions not much clearer as he jogged the last few feet across the lawn to where Draco Malfoy had stopped.

"Here," he said without preamble, holding out the hawthorn wand. He had no idea if it would ever work for Malfoy again, but with his own holly wand repaired, it seemed only fair to try.

Malfoy took it, the strangest expression on his pointed face. (Later, Harry realized that that was the only wand the Malfoy family had had at their disposal for the next few months.) He stared at the wand for several seconds before looking back up at Harry.

"Thanks." The word sounded more disbelieving than thankful, but Harry was more than satisfied by it anyway. He proceeded to just look at Malfoy for a moment.

It really had been an odd reaction. Then again, that whole day (week, month, year, _lifetime_ ) had been odd. The past and future faded away, leaving only them and that moment. Harry surged forward, wrapping his arms somewhat roughly around Malfoy's shoulders and pulling the other wizard close.

"I'm so glad you made it through." His voice was somewhat muffled, speaking through Malfoy's robes and his own arm. After hesitating significantly, Malfoy slowly raised the hand not holding his wand and placed it flat in the center of Harry's back.

Their picture was among the largest of the montage in the next morning's Prophet.

  
\---  


The streets are dark as they pass through. It's early for that, but everyone too young to attend the celebration has either already been put to bed or is up at Hogwarts. The atmosphere is anything but restful, though. The drumming only grows louder as they draw nearer, and Harry can now make out woodwinds and fiddles weaving melodies high above the thrum.

It sounds a bit like chaos. Not in a bad way.

  
\---  


The Malfoys' trials were held on consecutive days in late June. In the week leading up to them, Harry had been carrying in his chest a weird mix of apprehension and curiosity. He'd barely thought of the Malfoys in the nearly two months since the battle, and he'd not been to any of the Death Eater trials thus far, but after all that had happened how could he not testify for Draco and Narcissa?

The morning of Draco Malfoy's trial dawned bright and hot and golden. Harry had not been permitted to be accompanied by a friend, so he was more than a little surprised when he was met at the wand check by Minister Shacklebolt himself, who handed him a special visitor's badge and escorted him down to the courtroom, wand still in tow.

Harry's first look at Malfoy as he was led into the courtroom was an image that has remained seared into his brain ever since: chained and shackled, flanked by a pair of Aurors, slightly gaunt, white as a sheet and already sweating through his dress robe.

It was one of the longest mornings of Harry's entire life. Malfoy answered the questions posed to him in a quiet and patently hysterical voice. Later, when Harry descended to the floor to give his testimony, Malfoy stared up at him disheveled, wide-eyed, and shaking.

Harry could not have been more relieved when the court called a recess for lunch. He headed straight to the loo. It was a surprise, then, that he'd been beaten there by someone. As soon as he entered he heard the sound of retching. His stomach turned. It didn't take much for him to figure out who it was - in the open door of one of the stalls stood one of the Aurors who had brought Malfoy into the courtroom. She looked bored.

As soon as his footsteps sounded in the room, the gagging became more concealed. (Harry vaguely wondered if it was out of embarrassment or courtesy.) When Harry went to wash his hands, he found that he could see Malfoy reflected in the mirror. His thin frame was bent over the toilet wretchedly as he heaved.

A wild moment's decision later, Harry knelt beside Malfoy with a conjured glass and real water. Malfoy never met his eyes, but clung to the front of Harry's robes as agonizing sobs tore from his chest.

Later, when Harry found Mr Weasley and Percy in the cafeteria, he responded to the question of how things were downstairs with "stifling" and graciously accepted the slice of sunflower seed bread offered to him even though he wasn't hungry. He spent that night at Andromeda's rather than at Grimmauld Place, holding onto Teddy like a lifeline. When he did finally sleep, he dreamt of when he'd returned Malfoy's wand, but instead of giving a hug he took Draco by the face and kissed him soundly.

  
\---  


The heavy scent of woodsmoke hits Harry like a bludger as they round the last house, though the fire is not yet in sight. Harry is just briefly thrown off-balance, and has to take a moment to tell his vague sense of alarm to kindly sod off. Ron and Hermione wait without comment - they already know, and are both damn lucky to have avoided this lingering effect themselves. Harry wonders how Draco is holding up.

He nods at them, and they carry on.

  
\---  


The beginning of August brought with it the start of Auror training. Harry and Ron (and Hermione, though she declined) were the only ones exempt from the aptitude tests held a few days earlier, and as such were the only ones surprised when a hesitant-looking Malfoy appeared, being literally pushed to the table to pick up his new Auror Trainee badge by a recently-exonerated Pansy Parkinson. Harry felt as though the swift beating of his heart was somewhat traitorous, though he couldn't quite pinpoint why. The looks Ron and Neville gave him were entirely too significant.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," Malfoy said somewhat quietly when it came time for him to give his introduction to the group. That voice, those words - everything else vanished from Harry's mind. Malfoy's head was turned toward Proudfoot - the instructor - but his eyes were on the floor. "I- well, we all know why I'm here." His tone was a brittle imitation of his own old cockiness.

"Perks doesn't," Proudfoot snapped, thoroughly unamused and referring to fact that Sally-Anne had only just that summer returned from four years abroad. "Explain it."

Sally-Anne's eyebrows drew together, but she didn't bother to turn back to the older woman. There were splotches of pink on Malfoy's face. His jaw moved stiffly when he spoke again, but Harry didn't hear the words - he was too distracted, watching as Malfoy clutched at his left forearm.

Ron leaned over to Harry as Malfoy sat back down.

"Mate," he said, his whisper barely audible, "Might want to reel in your expression if you don't want everyone to know how much you fancy Malfoy." Harry wanted to sputter some rebuttal, but his brain locked up and before he recovered Ron was standing to give his own introduction.

When they were told to partner up, Harry noticed that Sally-Anne made a beeline for Malfoy.

  
\---  


Signs of the festivity become more numerous as they approach the tree line. Flower petals are strewn in the grass to either side of the path, and some abandoned picnic blankets scattered about speak of merrymaking earlier in the day. There is one couple visible stretched out on a blanket, but Harry can't tell, from this distance, if he recognizes them. Either way, they don't look as though they'd appreciate being disturbed.

  
\---  


One otherwise uneventful day in the middle of September, right at the end of the work day, a paper airplane memo flew into the duelling practice room and went straight for Proudfoot. Activity in the room froze. It was clear, from the expressions on everyone's faces, what they were thinking - had there been another dark creature attack? They'd been increasing in number startlingly as of late. A wave of relief passed through the room when Proudfoot opened the memo and grinned. Then her grin turned decidedly wicked.

"Listen up, everyone! We're having a surprise slumber party!" There were various sounds of shock and confusion from around the room. "Are those complaints I hear? Get used to it! When you happen to be assigned a time-sensitive case, you'd better believe you'll be staying here all night!"

Harry learned several useful things that night: 

1\. He was much better at late-night paperwork than he'd thought he would be.  
2\. After passing a certain level of tiredness, Neville would quit holding back while duelling and just start firing stunners.  
3\. Sally-Anne's perkiness was a never-ending font. It would, however, become creepy at about three in the morning.  
4\. Malfoy was not at all capable of staying upright if he happened to doze off in a chair.  
5\. The makeshift bunkroom available to the Aurors contained only three two-bunk beds.  
6\. Aurors were not apparently supposed to cultivate a sense of personal space.

When they were finally allowed, at a truly godforsaken hour, to catch a quick kip before the next day's training was to begin, the group made a few surprised noises to discover only six sleeping spaces for the twelve of them. They were wizards, of course, and if there had been a morsel of free space in the room Harry was certain that someone would have attempted to conjure another cot, even despite their collective exhausted stupor. As it was, they had to pair up.

"That's up to you to work out," Proudfoot stated dismissively. "I'm not your nanny or your chaperone." She then turned on her heel and left them to the task.

In the end, Harry found himself somehow squeezed into a bunk with Malfoy - it made sense, Moon pointed out, since they were the smallest of the boys and could actually fit into a bunk without fear of shoving each other out due to lack of space.

Having Malfoy's warmth weighing heavily on his side did nothing to help Harry sleep. Malfoy had faced away from Harry and into the room, scooting as close to the edge of the mattress as possible. Harry - face-down in his conjured pillow - could still feel the Slytherin's breathing and the heat pouring off his back. How the hell he was supposed to sleep, he did not know.

He must have dropped off at some point, though, because Harry woke an indeterminate amount of time later to darkness and the sound of snoring. The first thing he noticed was that he had shifted in his sleep and was now on his side facing the wall.

The second thing he noticed was that in the night Malfoy had turned over and was spooning him. Malfoy's slow, even breaths were ruffling his hair and one of Malfoy's slender arms was slung over his waist. Most shocking, however, was the unmistakable firm press against his backside. Harry tried very hard to keep his breathing even, but it came out a bit shaky nevertheless. He didn't think he'd ever gotten so hard so fast in his life.

A short time later, Harry realized that the reason he'd woken up was that Proudfoot had entered and was lurking in the room, apparently waiting for just the perfect moment to startle everyone awake with what must have been the most obnoxious klaxon spell in the world. As they were all filing out of the room to hit the loos and make themselves presentable for the work day, Proudfoot smirked at Harry and, eyes on the prize, said,

"Best take care of that, Potter."

Harry muttered "Fucking hate you," in response, which made Proudfoot snort and Neville hide a laugh in a cough. To Harry's endless mortification, Fawcett and Malfoy both turned to peek at him. Fawcett's eyes widened; Malfoy flushed right up to his hairline and looked away again quickly.

Harry did have a wank in one of the stalls in the restroom, his mind straying between the feeling of Malfoy wrapped around him, to Malfoy's scent still stuck to his clothes and skin, to imaginings of Malfoy's hand drifting just a bit lower. It was not the first time he'd indulged to the thought of his blond associate, but it was by far the most effective. He found himself glad he'd thought to cast a silencing spell when the pleasure boiled over and his mouth opened in a noiseless cry.

Shortly thereafter, in the break room, Malfoy came up beside him at the counter to grab coffee, just as Harry himself was doing. Harry's eyes strayed over and he couldn't help but note that Malfoy had pink in his cheeks and a lustre to his grey eyes that Harry hadn't seen before.

That moment was the first time he ever seriously considered kissing Draco.

  
\---  


Hermione stops them just before they step off the little forest path and into the clearing. She smiles up at him fondly as she makes final adjustments to his robes and glasses and the truly ridiculous but traditional set of alice-band-mounted antlers on his head. Some people would choose to transfigure them to their head for the night, but Harry wants to be able to take them off when the time comes.

The drumming is pounding in his blood and the fire can finally be seen. Hermione fixes the headgear in place with a simple charm and steps back, apparently satisfied.

Harry thanks her. She tells him to get going.

  
\---  


It was the day before Halloween when the Auror trainees all went out drinking at the Leaky to celebrate. Everyone ended up completely arseholed, and Draco - too drunk to Apparate, but not, for a particular reason, terribly inclined to use the Floo - was deemed too drunk to walk home on his own and given an escort. Harry, understanding Draco's aversion to the fire greater than any of the others, volunteered for the job. Neville accompanied them, stating that it would probably be best if Harry wasn't stuck walking back to the Leaky again alone, either.

The flat Draco shared with Pansy wasn't all that far from the Leaky Cauldron, situated in the border between Muggle and Wizarding London. When they arrived, Neville stayed on the front steps to smoke a fag while Harry and Draco dragged themselves up the stairs. Draco was reeling pissed by the time they got there, so Harry positioned him against the wall while he (rather severely drunk himself) wrestled with the lock.

When he finally got the door open and looked back to Draco, Draco was leaning against the wall and breathing heavily, regarding him with a very unusual expression.

"For a minute, I thought you were going to kiss me."

And then suddenly kissing Draco sounded like a marvellous idea. He was a bit disheveled and all pink-faced and red-lipped and wide-eyed from alcohol, and Harry was frankly not sure he'd ever seen him more ridiculously gorgeous. Harry walked over to Draco and planted one hand on the wall beside Draco's head, his other hand landing on one of Draco's thin shoulders. From up close, Draco's grey eyes were a bit silver.

Harry dipped his head, and then their lips were together and he really was kissing Draco. It was a drunk and rather sloppy kiss, but almost frighteningly electric. Draco's lips were surprisingly warm - as were his hands when they twined up around the back of Harry's neck - and he was kissing back; oh _Merlin_ , was he ever kissing back. They were both heaving air through their noses and Harry's hand drifted up Draco's neck to cup his cheek - it was intimate and god but Draco's skin was soft.

Draco made a small, desperate sound in his throat and swayed even against the wall. Harry pulled back quickly, not sure if his head was swimming from the kiss or the alcohol.

"Sorry," Draco said quietly. His voice was sheepish, but Harry was having a hard time seeing through the spinning of the world around him to Draco's expression. "I just got… really dizzy." Harry nodded and, using the hand still planted on the wall as a guide, turned about so that his back was to the wall as well, shoulder-to-shoulder with Draco.

"'Salright," he responded. "Me too."

The world stabilized just in time for Harry to see Draco push off from the wall and run a hand through his white blond hair. He licked his lips, then looked at Harry.

"So, ah, good night, then?"

"I- yeah. Is Pansy home? You gonna be all right?"

"Oh, she's here."

"Right, then." Draco started toward the door. "Don't forget to sleep on your side! I don't want to get to the Ministry on Monday and find out you've choked on your own vomit."

Draco stopped in his tracks and rolled his eyes mightily toward Harry, expression somewhere between disgust and exasperation. "Thanks ever so, Potter. Really."

"Any time, Malfoy. Really." He paused slightly. "Good night."

Draco nodded once more in his direction - a small, drunken grin on his face - before staggering into his flat and closing the door.

When Harry made it back down to Neville, the other wizard grinned at him.

"Took you long enough," he teased. "You two stop for a snog, or what?"

Harry grinned as well as he stumbled inelegantly down the front steps. "Yeah, actually."

Neville's eyes widened as he reflexively vanished the stub of his fag with a flick of his wrist. "What, really?"

_Fuck._

Harry paused in his advance a bit uncertainly. He _would_ choose to come out to the only wizard he knew who could match him in both power and speed, while alone and quite a bit more drunk than said wizard.

"I owe Ron five galleons."

Harry was so startled and pleased that he barked a laugh. "You had a _bet_ on? About what, whether I was gay, or whether I would kiss Malfoy?"

Neville just laughed as they began to head back to the Leaky.

Perhaps he should have expected that everything would promptly go to shit. When in his life had things not?

Proudfoot announced the very next week that they would be going on a mandatory training camp, spending days and nights with each other for both bonding and conditioning purposes. The evil glint in her eye indicated to Harry that she had a variety of tricks up her sleeve for this particular excursion.

Really, that was all well and good. The problem was that Draco wouldn't look at him. Not Draco wouldn't look him in the eye; rather, Draco wouldn't even throw a single glance in his general direction. The blond kept his head down and his eyes glued to the floor at all times. It was maddening. Even more maddening was how he himself seemed incapable of breaking the horrible silence between them.

Then the training camp began and there wasn't so much time for thoughts of ruined almost-friendships and awkward not-quite-romances. They had to find their professionally-concealed tent before they could sleep in it, they ran drills and practiced on targets. One afternoon Proudfoot broke them up into three teams, gave each one very specific instructions about who their enemies were, and Apparated them into the woods for a free-for-all. It was later that night that things finally came to a head.

Harry had gone off into the nearby woods to answer nature's call. There was no particular direction they went in for that - when they could just vanish the results there was no need to dig a latrine, and so really all they were doing was seeking a little privacy.

Thus, it was rather unexpected when on his way back to camp suddenly there was Malfoy coming through the trees. Harry stopped short as Malfoy took notice of him and his neutral expression slipped into something irresolute. Malfoy glanced back over his shoulder toward camp - for what purpose, Harry couldn't quite fathom in that moment - and then suddenly his hands were gripping Harry's shoulders, Harry's back was pressed against a tree trunk, and Malfoy was looking (just slightly) up into Harry's face with a scowl and a piercing silver gaze. His breath coming only in quick, heavy bursts, Harry attempted to check his confusing, hot rush of alarm and arousal. At the same time, he took note of which pocket his wand was stashed in and the fact that his hands were free.

"You are driving me mad, Potter." Malfoy's tone was dangerously quiet and thoroughly vexed. Harry was fairly certain he'd forgotten how to breathe altogether. "You spend three months staring at me like an infatuated second-year, kiss me, then you don't speak to me for a week! And just as I'm deciding that it was all a mistake - you only did it because you were curious or fucking pissed or some other motivation that hasn't even crossed my mind - you suddenly can't keep your hands off me! I realize I got special treatment during training earlier because I was the target, but you had your hand on my back from the moment we met up, long before we knew who the others were after!"

Harry's heart was absolutely pounding - he'd have been surprised if Malfoy couldn't feel it, too.

"So, which is it? Do you want me or not?"

"I kissed you and you wouldn't even look at me for three days." Harry's voice came out thin and breathless. "I thought you regretted it, or maybe I'd misunderstood you in the first place - you were just teasing, then only let me because you were totally shitfaced."

Malfoy's expression was strange. "That wasn't- I _couldn't_ look at you! You kissed me like I'd never thought-" He floundered somewhat, red-faced. "You wouldn't talk to me!"

"I had nothing to say! Well, I did originally, but not when I realized you couldn't even look at me."

Malfoy hesitated for what felt something like an eternity. He bit at his lower lip, and Harry's eyes glued themselves to the movement. "What were you going to say? Originally."

"I'm… not completely sure. I had a few different thoughts." A tinge of mischief washed across Malfoy's face and Harry ploughed on before Malfoy had a chance. "Yes yes, I know, I was _thinking_."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Malfoy objected with a smirk.

"Like hell you weren't," Harry shot back playfully. His smile dropped quickly. "Maybe I'd have suggested we do it again, without being almost too pissed to stand up? Maybe I'd have mentioned I'd be bloody thrilled to do more than just that." He swallowed dryly. "What would you have said back?"

Malfoy had drifted closer, and Harry could feel his breath on his lips when he spoke. "I might have accused you of still being drunk. I might have…" Malfoy's fingers tightened on Harry's shoulders, and his eyes narrowed. Harry's heart skipped a beat. "This is the most fucking ridiculous conversation I have ever had."

Then, before Harry could point out that Malfoy was the one who had started the conversation in the first place, Malfoy was absolutely crushing his mouth in a fierce, desperate kiss.

It took Harry's brain several moments to catch up enough to do anything besides kiss back with all of his might. He snaked one arm around Malfoy's waist - Malfoy made a high whine in his throat as their chests pressed even closer together - and with his other hand cupped the back of Malfoy's head, fingers twining between blond strands.

Malfoy's lips parted beneath his, his tongue running along Harry's lower lip. Harry readily obliged, dipping his tongue into Malfoy's warm mouth. And fuck, but Malfoy kissed like it was a _contest_ , exploration becoming duelling quickly. Releasing Harry's shoulders, both of Malfoy's hands slipped past the collar of Harry's shirt to dig his nails into the skin of his back. Malfoy couldn't seem to stop moving, either; shifting almost restlessly every few moments, apparently trying to sink in closer even though they were already pressed flush from hip to shoulder.

Malfoy's hips rolled as he readjusted one more time, and Harry's knees threatened to buckle. It was a thoroughly undignified groan that escaped him at that moment; he was fairly sure that Malfoy would tease him for it later, but at the time he gave a small whimper, grasped harder at Harry's back, and ground him back against the three with ferocious avidity.

Malfoy's erection was entirely apparent as it rubbed against his own, even through four layers of fabric. Harry was slipping beyond the point of coherent thought, what with Malfoy's nails raking up his back and Malfoy's hips splashing waves of pleasure over his whole nervous system and the heat of Malfoy's body burning into him.

Harry broke away from the kiss even as they continued twisting and rubbing and trying to find an even better angle. He kissed and nipped a trail down the side of Malfoy's neck, pushing Malfoy's shirt out of the way as he reached the base. Then, holding himself back somewhat, he bit down. Malfoy's breath hitched and his rhythm became erratic.

" _Harry_."

A shot of raw ecstasy thundered through Harry's whole body at the sound of his name - his _first_ name - in that voice, in that tone. He'd never had the urge to do this before - to mark his partner like some sort of wild animal claiming territory - but in that moment he did, and he didn't fight the compulsion. He sucked a dark bruise into the pale skin.

Malfoy cried out loudly enough that everyone back at camp could probably hear, his fingers digging into the already fire-hot skin of Harry's back as he bucked and shuddered. It took Harry's lust-soaked brain just a moment to catch up to what had happened, and he moaned openly, letting his head tip back against the tree trunk. Malfoy's forehead landed on his shoulder as his tremors began to subside. His hands working on their own, Harry kept Malfoy upright against him with one arm and plunged the other hand into his own jeans. Just a few strokes were all it took, and he let out a ragged groan as he came.

What followed was surprisingly not awkward. Once their breathing normalized they cleaned themselves up and returned to camp. Draco even admitted, a laugh in his voice, that he'd _really_ needed that. If the others kept shooting them amused looks, they ignored it. Harry bunked down alone that night, but woke in the morning to an armful of sleeping Slytherin.

"I was cold," Draco said when questioned, and his eyes were so bright and his haughty tone so familiar that Harry kissed him then and there, morning breath and all.

Then three days later everything temporarily blew up when the training camp was brought to an abrupt and terrifying end by rogue Dementors. Perks and Summers got the worst of it and ended up spending a night in St. Mungo's, while Draco and Padma were really not that much better off. Nobody raised an eyebrow when Harry offered to escort Draco back to his flat. Pansy wasn't at home when they arrived, and Harry stayed to wait for her until Draco fell asleep on his shoulder.

  
\---  


The frenetic whirling of the throng is near enough to dizzy Harry on its own; in combination with the fierce music and heady smoke it is overpowering. Dressed in antlers and veils and flowers and filmy bits that can hardly be called robes, friend and stranger alike appear as if wild spirits of the forest or old pagan gods.

He stands dumbly for a long moment before a glass is shoved into his hand - some kind of fruity wine with flower petals floating on top. Harry glances after the person who gave it to him and receives a saucy wink from dark eyes; it's Padma, he thinks. Maybe Parvati. She disappears into the crowd and Harry takes a sip.

  
\---  


A new normal formed, of stolen moments and hurried kisses. There wasn't time for much more; the entirety of Magical Law Enforcement was quickly being swept up in working to contain the dark creature attacks that had been increasing at an alarming rate since the battle. Most nights the two of them Apparated to their respective homes with exhausted farewells.

Thus, it wasn't until shortly before Christmas that Harry and Draco tumbled into bed together properly. It began as just short of a wrestling match, as their encounters generally were; a mutual and rather playful struggle for dominance of the situation. When Draco flipped them over and pressed in close, his prick brushed past Harry's entrance. Harry melted instantly, his breath hitching. Draco pulled back to look at him, surprise on his face.

"Do you usually- _really_?"

"Usually, yeah. Not always, though."

There were deep pink splotches on Draco's sharp cheekbones, and his pupils were blown wide. "You would let me…?"

" _God_ , yes, Draco." The very thought of it made his prick twitch against Draco's stomach. Draco let his head drop between his shoulders and he groaned. Even in that situation there was a hint of whininess at the end of the sound, and it was just so _Draco_ , and Harry didn't think he'd ever known he could love someone that much.

When Draco finally sank all the way in, he made a sound something like a sob.

"Oh god, Harry," he choked out. "I don't know how long I can last."

"That's okay," Harry replied breathlessly.

He really didn't last for very long. Harry held Draco afterward rather than the other way around.

  
\---  


Perhaps it is because of the furor of the crowd, but Harry doesn't seem to draw much attention as he slowly makes his way around the fire. His eyes dart around, locking on to every blond head and pale face.

He thinks he sees Draco once, a pointed profile in silhouette against the flames, but he disappears into the throng before Harry can approach.

  
\---  


The Ministry decided to start preparing for the anniversary three months early. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all invited to the first planning meeting. Harry had half a mind to turn down the offer, but Hermione, sensible as always, pointed out that if he attended, he'd likely be able to do the inevitable public appearance on his own terms. So it was that Harry found himself sitting in a conference room at the Ministry with his two best friends and a dozen witches and wizards he barely knew, listening to riveting debates over whether to have an official event colour scheme and if it would be most appropriate to celebrate with a fireworks display. Harry was very nearly dozing off when a short blonde witch piped up with,

"When are we doing this, anyway?" When met with silence, she clarified, "The battle started on the first and ended on the second. Should we celebrate concurrently with Beltane and risk the anniversary being swallowed up by the holiday, or would it be better to have two big holidays back-to-back like that?"

There were assorted murmurings from the others, and Harry was glad they were finally, if perhaps briefly, focusing on something of interest. He swept his gaze around the table, and that was when he noticed it; Hermione was sitting perfectly still, her face frozen in the expression of revelation that he'd come to be so familiar with over the years. He braced himself.

Hermione's hands hit the table hard and she half-stood from her seat, eyes wide and focused on the image in her mind. "It was Beltane! Beltane, of _course_ , that's what happened!"

Even though Harry had absolutely no idea what Hermione was talking about, he wisely kept his mouth shut, even when Hermione turned to look at him.

"The Fiendfyre! It must have still been before midnight, and who knows what everything was in that room, there very well could have been all nine woods - especially with the box of broken wands - and when you two flew out together you passed over top of the fire! It must have counted as a 'jump', at least so far as the spells were concerned!"

"Hermione," Ron interjected from her other side, "What are you talking about?"

Hermione took a deep breath and whipped around to look at Ron. "The trouble with the dark creatures began after the end of the war, right? The papers have been speculating it's because they had been in Voldemort's thrall and were freed at his death, but there _could_ be another explanation.

"Ancient wizards developed complex magic to keep dark creatures at bay, among other things; celebrations throughout the year that often included some level of ritual. Muggles adapted these holidays and attached their own meanings to them, but we still rely on some of that magic today, even if we don't think about it so often. Harry!"

She whipped back around, eyes intense enough that Harry fought the desire to recoil slightly.

"Nontraditional though it may have been, you and Malfoy jumped a fire on Beltane last year, and then didn't, ah," she turned bright red. "Well, didn't consummate."

Harry didn't even open his mouth but his face must have done something, because Hermione ploughed on quickly.

"Not before the next relevant holiday, in any case! Normally that wouldn't make much of a difference, but last year was a mess, to put it mildly. There were very few Beltane celebrations, and in addition you were going over a magical fire fuelled by wands at one of the two biggest magical hubs in the isles! And who knows how much everything else going on right then could have played in to the spell?"

"Let me get this straight," Harry finally spoke up. "You're saying that the reason there have been Dementors all over the place this year is because Draco and I… broke Beltane?"

Hermione nodded.

"So, how do we fix this?"

Hermione pursed her lips as she thought. Ron leaned into the table to look around her at Harry, a cheeky smirk on his face. "Do Beltane properly next time?"

  
\---  


Trying to navigate the dancing horde is like trying to walk through a maze where no path leads precisely where he wants it to and everything changes every few seconds. Trying to find just one person in the throng is proving to be next to impossible as well. He feels just a bit lightheaded - he hasn't had nearly enough wine for that, so he figures it must be the smoke and music and energy.

A hand lands on Harry's back. It's a familiar size and weight and warmth, and he doesn't even really have to turn to know to whom it belongs. Draco's eyes meet his, glinting silver in the firelight. The crown of little white flowers in his hair is somehow both twee and fetching at the same time. He smiles. Harry leans in for a kiss.

  
\---  


It was nearly spring when at lunch on one of Harry and Draco's rare days off, Pansy asked out of the blue,

"So, why haven't you moved in together yet?"

Draco choked a bit on his salad. His face flushed and his eyes watered as he attempted to give Pansy a strong glare but only managed to look mildly cross. Pansy laughed.

"A bit sudden, isn't it?" Harry asked while Draco attempted to regain his breath.

Pansy shrugged. "Is it? He's been essentially living with you since Christmas. Why not make it official so he can stop having to Apparate back every time he wants a change of clothes?"

"Are we just going to talk about me as if I'm not here, then?"

"And far be it from me to complain about a flatmate who pays the rent on time and doesn't hog the shower," Pansy went on with the slightest smirk quirking the corner of her mouth, "But part of the reason I took him in was because I like having people around! I just don't see that situation improving any time soon." Pansy aimed a big cheeky wink at Harry then as Draco fumed nearby. Harry grinned back.

Not two weeks later found the the three of them and Ron moving Draco into Grimmauld Place. Even though they argued about how to arrange the bedroom furniture and exactly how much of the closet each of them was to get, Harry thought he couldn't be happier. Draco's smile seemed to indicate he felt the same way.

  
\---  


The kiss ends, with the drums' rhythm pounding in his blood, and Harry has to admit to himself that he doesn't feel terribly inclined to let Draco go. It must show on his face, because Draco smirks wickedly as he draws back, takes Harry by the wrists, and pulls him deeper into the crowd.

The dance is all a blur of whirling flame and flickering eyes. Harry wouldn't have thought Draco the type to dance, but he suspects it has more to do with winding him up than anything else, judging by the way Draco can't seem to keep amusement entirely out of his provocative expressions. When it's their turn to jump the fire, Draco takes Harry's hand and squeezes his eyes shut. Harry's heart lodges itself firmly in his throat until they're over.

When they dance their way out of the crowd, making to steal away into the woods, Ron happens to catch Harry's eyes. Smiling, he looks away and pretends as if he didn't see a thing.


End file.
